Victor is Only a Title
by ilovedoodle
Summary: Maybe, if the circumstances were different, I would have came out of the arena un-changed. But they weren't different, so here I am. Their blood has stained my soul, my family are gone, along with my lover, my worst nightmares have become my reality. So, why are my cheeks still dry? One-shot, reviews returned.


"I VOLUNTEER"

When a career, like I was considered as, scream those words, they are deciding their fate. They are either going to die in the Games and forgotten, or they are going to beat all odds and be the lone survivor, remembered forever.

Yet, they don't live the life of luxury that they expected to, that they dreamed of, I know that now. Maybe some do come back a victor and they live a good, happy life. Maybe some forget the now horrible memories of the Hunger Games, they remain unchanged.

Not me. Maybe if the circumstances were different, I would have been the same. Maybe I would have come back alive, as cocky and brutal as I used to be. But they weren't different. So when I uttered those words, I knew I was dead anyway, if I came out of the arena or not.

In District Two, they choose who gets to volunteer for the pageant of honour, courage and sacrifice. Also known as the despicable Hunger Games. They choose the strongest, the most brutal or ruthless, and the one they expect to win, the one who will bring pride to their district. That wasn't me.

When you are chosen, you have to go into the Games. To be perfectly honest, you don't really have a choice. If you refuse to go in, they just kill you anyway, they don't care. Murder is punishable by death in most cases, but not if you are a peacekeeper, they come from my district.

If you aren't chosen, you can't go in. Even if it is your lifelong dream, ambition, desire. There has been a few occasions were people who weren't chosen volunteered, but they were killed on the spot, their screams of apology so loud they implanted themselves in the brains of the thousand present. But somehow, it was always concealed by the Capitol.

You can always conceal things, but they will never go away.

My case was different though, I wasn't chosen, but I still volunteered. I still went into the Games, and I still won, despite them underestimating me. But I still paid the price.

My family are dead, along with my friends. Even those who are remotely related to me, second cousins or something, or people who have uttered so much as a word to me. President Snow murdered them all.

I won't bore you with the details; all you need to know is that they are all gone. Some of them were killed the day of the reaping, the day I volunteered. But he killed the last of them when was the last one standing.

They slaughtered Alec, my six-year-old brother, in front of my eyes, and my parents too. I don't have tears left, I never really did.

I have always been a hard shell to crack, but I guess I am soft within. Yet I can't understand why my face is dry, my mouth drawn in a harsh line instead of drowned in sorrow.

Every citizen from Two wants to kill me. I don't really understand why though, I won and I brought back pride and honour for them to devour. It was all they wanted, but they're always greedy. Still, I don't see why they are so mad.

I can't bring myself to regret volunteering. It has bought me so much pain, even though I was certain I repelled it. Even though my family and friends are dead, even though I am certain I am crazy, I just can't.

Sometimes I wonder if I should have let the Girl on Fire win, I could have died in dignity. Maybe then, the districts would be happier, I could have been happy; Clove and I could be together.

I live in the Capitol now. I can't go back to my district, as everyone would kill me the moment I stepped foot off the train. Snow has big plans for me; he says I'm a hit with the Capitol ladies. I have a client tomorrow, I just pretended it was Clove the last time, and it wasn't as horrendous.

I don't know what has brought me to make this decision, as I know I am already dead.

I used to dream of this life, victory, pride, honour, money, everything else I thought this would bring. But it hasn't, it has all been a nightmare.

I think of Clove, because I am pretty sure I loved her, I killed her though. I killed her because I thought that it was the only way to gain victory, when I would be so much more victorious if we were together Maybe that is why they all hate me, because I killed her. Yet I know it is more than that.

But it doesn't matter anymore. Maybe Clove will forgive me, maybe they all will in time.

The rope hangs loosely around my neck, I don't feel scared though, I just feel like I am about to be relived.

I think of how surprised Snow will be when he comes in here in a few hours. It makes me laugh.

I only register hanging there for seconds, and there is less than seconds of pain.

But then it doesn't matter, because then I see Clove, and I know this is where I will be happy.

**So, that was originally just a random District Two victor, but with a few tweaks, I made it into a little Cato one-shot for you all. Even though I don't really like Cato, I like him in this; he is no longer brutal and horrible. The idea just came to me at about midnight last night (or this morning, or whatever) and I just had to write it. **

**What do you think? Because reviews will always make me smile. Also, it might even inspire me to carry on a bit with this, as in do the alternate ending to the 74****th ****or explain more or something, as I do have a few ideas spinning around up here. **

**This is kind of just to apologise for not updating my other story, Another Spark. To any of my Another Spark readers, I am sorry about the update delay, it is taking me a little longer than I expected and I have a tad of the ol' writers block… **

**Yeah, so I hope you liked it!**


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